


Kill Me Softly

by Black_Eyed_Suzannah_Q



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha Jedi!Ben, Dark!Rey, F/M, Knotting, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omegaverse, Rough Sex, Rutting, a/b/o dynamics, elevator smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-05 19:50:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14625816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Eyed_Suzannah_Q/pseuds/Black_Eyed_Suzannah_Q
Summary: Driven mad by their proximity, omega Dark Rey and alpha Jedi Ben Solo thrust aside their enmity to rut in theSupremacy’s elevator.





	Kill Me Softly

**Author's Note:**

> An offering at the altar of the Smut Gods! (with some feelings, because I'm seemingly incapable of writing smut without feelings)
> 
> Enjoy!

_By the grace of my master’s training, I will be not seduced. By the grace of my master’s training, I will not be seduced. By the grace of my master’s training, I will not be…I will not...will not...will...not..._

Kira Ren repeats these words as a mantra, hands fisted at her sides so hard that the knuckles of her gloves are taut and glossy, and her fingernails mark her palms even through the leather. Her feet are planted, her knees locked as the elevator rises from the _Supremacy_ ’s lower levels. The ascendant hydraulic motion is smooth, controlled, polished and cold as everything else aboard her master’s ship. Yet her stomach churns with something akin to motion sickness. Perspiration beads at her temples, tangles in her eyelashes. Trickles of sweat skim along her spine; her shoulders ache against her need to flinch. She keeps her straining, unblinking eyes fixed upon the elevator’s control panel, crimson lights flickering in upward beads through the ascent. And she repeats her mantra over and over.

Otherwise, she’ll be sick.

Because the elevator is too small, the space claustrophobic with her panic.

With his _scent_.

The rogue Jedi, standing impossibly tall before her in his failed Order’s robes, watching durasteel layers melt away as the elevator carries them higher, toward her master’s reception room. His wrists are manacled at his waist and he’s also fisted his hands, fingers curling over his thumbs. Pain, or resolve? Kira doesn’t ask, as she might’ve once done when the strange, resonant bond had opened between them in moments of anger or pain. Or loneliness.

_Her sparring garments stripped off to nothing but a thin, sweat-stained tunic, muscles in her calves and bared thighs spasming with exhaustion after her training, craving only oblivion and animal comfort in the ’fresher...and then the thrumming awareness deep in her belly of—him._

_The flush over his cheekbones at her near nakedness, nostrils flaring, mouth fallen open in sudden surprise_ —

Kira doesn’t ask him why he clenches his fingers, because she doesn’t trust herself to part her lips without heaving everything she’s eaten within the past week onto the elevator’s steel-gleaming floor.

But perhaps it would be easier to breathe if she did—if she could inhale through her mouth, with the stench of bile overwhelming all else. Because each breath drawn through her nose, lips pressed together against her roiling stomach, is a torment.

Unbearable, in this confined space.

Rather than condemn her for it, her master had prized her designation when her heat had first manifested.

 _Yes, my Kira, leader of the Knights of Ren. This is good. I tell you this, but still you are afraid that it displeases me? Do not be afraid. It is true that there are those who will scorn you for it, those short-sighted fools who would prefer to take an alpha for their apprentice. And they_ are _fools, Kira Ren. There must always be a battle for dominance between master and apprentice with such as they. But you and I, little omega…in our partnership, we will reach perfection._

She’d not understood, a child of fourteen upholding the responsibilities of a woman and a warrior, shivering before her master in a scorching, icy sweat. He’d heard her cry, her terror at the sudden gush of wetness between her thighs, thrashing herself awake within soaked, knotted sheets, gasping for breath. And rather than punish her for her weakness, her fear, he had extended a wisdom-gnarled hand. She’d clung to him, horrified and overwhelmed by this rebellion from her body.

 _Yes_ , her master had stroked her braided hair while she knelt trembling before him. _We will reach perfection, you and I. With my guidance and your imperative to please the one who is your dominant, we shall achieve what no master and apprentice before us have dared even to dream. Ours will be a partnership unlike any who have come before: born not of common lust, but of purpose. Of power. Do not fear this, Kira. Tell me why, child._

Her master had offered her understanding when she was lost. She knew what words to give in return, and they were her salvation from her fear.

_Peace is a lie, there is only passion._

_Through passion, I gain strength._

_Through strength, I gain power._

_Through power, I gain victory._

_Through victory, my chains are broken._

_The Force shall free me._

She spoke the creed, and began to see.

_Yes, Kira Ren. Through this imperative within you, you gain your strength. And you shall gain far more than any mere alpha, my dear. With dedication only to your master, you will be free. There will be none who can stand in your way. None who dare oppose you, my omega and my will._

_And we shall have_ everything _I desire_.

She’d found strength in her designation, then. Seen its potential, with raw, untamed power shaped by her master’s hands. She’d gloried in it.

Now Kira clutches her master’s teachings to her in this elevator, swearing not to forsake them. She will not forsake the truths she knows of herself, of what lives within her. Her master is wise. He will not lead her astray. He will not tempt her more than she can bear.

She can bear Ben Solo.

 _His scent_.

There are no alphas aboard the _Supremacy_. Her master had purged the ranks of his command long ago. Any who refused reassignment? Durasteel walls painted a magnificent crimson, the high, shrill whine of blasters discharging again and again.

 _For your comfort, my dear_. _And theirs. We have a war to wage_.

All stormtroopers are betas.

And so Kira has borne her heats alone with her master, learning to wield them with purpose and passion, saber crackling with the same spitting fire ricocheting through her belly and her blood. Stronger, faster, full of rage and cunning—anything to achieve their desires. Smelling ozone and steel, the salty musk of her body. She’d been powerful with her master to guide her. She’d achieved perfection. Yet for all her glory, she’d not known—

 _This_.

“Rey.”

His voice _—_ and her treacherous body thrums at that debased name. But Kira is controlled, she is sleek and clever as Death herself; she’s no longer a child, afraid and quaking at this unruly, overpowering sensation churning up from her gut.

 _No_.

_By the grace of my master’s training, I will not—_

“Rey,” the Jedi says again.

He turns from his sure-footed stance before the elevator’s sliding doors, breath washing over her as he speaks _that_ name. Dark curls over the collar of a brown cowl stir with his movement—another devastating assault upon Kira’s senses. The pit of her belly quivers, and she scowls. He shakes his head at her defiant, furious frown. Strands of black hair shift and brush against his cowl’s cloth, releasing a third wave of scent from all the fabric’s hidden cavities against his skin. He towers above her in this enclosed space; she can’t escape the musk radiating from glands beneath his jaw. Potent and terrible.

 _Spices, but like no spices she’s ever known—sweet on her tongue and burning her lips. Soil, fertile and rich_. _And_ him _. A scent that is purely Ben Solo_. _Lightning and the first fall of rain on starving ground._

There’s nowhere for her to run, only so far she can edge away before slamming her sweat-drenched shoulders against the elevator’s glass-and-steel lattice. But when Kira’s knees buckle, swaying her dangerously close to the broad expanse of the Jedi’s chest, she lurches back anyhow, as though she’ll claw through the walls, shattering herself in desperation as she’s shattered her helmet against this sleek, chromatic cage before.

The Jedi steps closer. His eyes—black as the deep, silent reaches of frozen space, or a warm, radiant topaz in firelight—are fixed upon her with a loathsome expression. Not hatred, or disgust.

 _Compassion_.

“You don’t have to do this to yourself, Rey.”

 _By the grace of my master’s_ —

His lips are ruddy and full. Whispering, tempting. _You’re not alone_.

But he’s right; Kira isn’t alone. She has her master with her always: the calm, disappointed voice in her mind when she fails him, the pulse of her imperative urge—

“I feel what’s happening to you,” he murmurs. “Your heat. Your resistance to it. _Years_ of resistance, Rey. And now it’s tearing you apart. But it doesn’t have to be this way. Let me—”

“No!” Shaking her head frantically, she gulps and gasps, defying him and his lies—lies that her master is not enough—but she’s made a terrible mistake; a single mutinous breath and Kira has inhaled his scent now, taken him into her lungs, deep within her body, and that body, the one she’s hardened and trained to serve herself and her master’s desires—it betrays her—

“It’s torturing you.” Still, the Jedi’s awful compassion. He’s so close that she can see divots in his cheeks that would form into dimples if he smiled, his lips parting over teeth that could bite and mark and hurt her—

“No,” her voice wavers, unbidden heat soaking her sex in a wet gush that she’s powerless to control. “No. Stay—stay away—”

“I can’t now, Rey. I think you know that. You know what staying away for this long has done to me, when I’m like this. When _you’re_ like this. You see it. Here, now. And it’s happened to you, too. The bond keeps trying to draw us together, and I’ve tried not to heed it because you didn’t want...when I...but you don’t have to be afraid anymore. Because I feel it, too.”

An alpha in his rut, pheromones spiralling through his blood, drenching his sweat, wafting a siren call—

“No! It’s nothing—I feel nothing—”

“You feel everything,” he says. “You’re in the midst of your heat, Rey. And you shouldn’t have called me to you if you didn’t want—you _couldn’t_ have called me if you didn’t—”

“I want _nothing_ from you. _Nothing_ ,” she spits out through gritted teeth, hands flexing against the elevator’s lattice, palms slippery with sweat inside her gloves, skidding on the leather. “My master—”

“You don’t need Snoke.” He raises his manacled hands and strokes a single finger through the hair plastered on her temple. That finger glides down her jaw, to her neck where her skin is dewy with perspiration. And Kira...she lets it happen, bears the slight discomfort of his nails scratching through the sweat puddling along the edge of her stiff black collar; what else can she do? Fighting him will only stir the air within this scent-soaked elevator further. Torment her further. Drive her into madness. Speaking will mean that she’ll have to breathe, breathe in the musk drowning her from his glands…

“You need to mate.”

“ _No_ ,” she chokes out. Sex is a weakness of the body, a distraction from her purpose. There are purer ways to channel her heat, and she knows them—she just can’t...can’t remember…

Kira closes her eyes in the only refusal left to her when he leans into her ridged, quaking figure, hand on her neck, lips ghosting against her ear. He whispers, delving deep into her body with his voice like silk and thunder, “I’ll help you.”

“No…” she breathes, shivering, muscles spasming in a tortured pulse. “Don’t…”

“Let me help you, Rey. _Please_.”

One little word. _Please_. It’s nothing but syllables in the rising elevator’s sweat-saturated, over-heated air. It’s a debilitating word, asking for permission when she takes what she wants, whatever she wants, Kira and her master…

But she doesn’t say _no_ again.

She can’t.

Kira just trembles when Ben brushes a finger under her chin, against her own glands. His nose skims along them, breathing deeply. Why...why isn’t he afraid of this...this thing between them...she doesn’t want it...hates it...and him...she doesn’t move, and a whimper rises in her throat when his mouth parts over her pulse point. There’s the barest hint of teeth behind his lips.

Almost a promise. And a word.

 _Mine_.

“Stop the elevator, Rey.”

A rutting alpha’s direct command to an omega in heat. A command, and a claim.

There’s...no way to resist. No refusal, no guilt. Just an overwhelming, desperate desire to please.

 _Obey_ , her body purrs, warmth coiling between her thighs, renewed wetness seeping through the trousers she wears beneath her surcoat; the fabric chafes with almost painful friction. And every nerve from her toes, to her sex, to her salivating tongue, hums with the prospect of such unbearable pleasure—obeying an alpha.

 _Hers_.

Kira’s hands curl. Her saber slides easily from its belted clip in answer. A flick of her nail ignites the stammering red blade, its quillons and shaft turning the air crimson between them. Ben’s hand on her jaw doesn’t permit her to turn aside her gaze from his while she plunges her saber into the elevator’s control panel; he holds her captive with searing, hooded eyes and the force of his will tightening around her bones, her soul. Electricity spits, ruptured wires sparking with blue and white flashes. The floor shudders beneath their feet, hydraulic gears suddenly pumping at nothing. Then the elevator grinds to an abrupt halt, sending them both reeling off their balance, against each other.

“ _Good_ ,” he murmurs.

Her saber falls from nerveless fingers, switching off as it clatters to the durasteel floor. Her body weeps in joy, softening and thrumming. _She’s pleased him_.

“Now remove my restraints, Rey.” He infuses his command with no Force-borne weight, and yet…

She can’t help but obey him in this, too. No mind-tricks, a dulling of awareness and sensation. _No._ She’s never felt so present within herself and within her heat as when she obeys Ben Solo. She feels _everything_.

_Pleasure._

_Anticipation._

_Desire_.

Kira Ren would grovel the length of the galaxy’s light-years if he ordered it. Anything. _Anything_ to please him.

Ben’s manacles hiss as they open.

“Thank you.”

 _Force_ , she’s going to die with the caress of those words against her ears. And her sex. _Thank you_. She’s done something for him, something he _likes_ —Kira’s thighs buckle.

Rather than letting her fall to her knees to plead and fawn— _please, please tell me I’m good_ —Ben’s arms circle her and draw her up against his chest, her cheek pressed to his linen-clad shoulder, every breath a heady mix of his scent mingling with hers. One arm fastens around her waist, and his other hand strokes through her hair, finding the ties binding her ridged braids and loosening them until liberated strands spill over her cheeks and ears and shoulders, a russet honey curtain that has Kira gasping at the odors it stirs—feeding and desperate—

“Do you smell it?” he asks her, voice rumbling in his chest, vibrating through her body where she’s pressing her breasts and the dampness between her thighs as close as she can into him, against the throbbing shaft within his trousers, grinding and keening low in her throat, all pride and resistance gone before an overwhelming pulse of _need_. “Your readiness? And mine?”

“Y-yes—please—”

He lifts aside a fallen lock of hair from her neck and breathes open-mouthed on the exposed skin, lips just grazing her gland. She quakes while he whispers to her, “I want you to want this, Rey. And I want you to want me as Rey of Jakku, my fierce scavenger. Not as Kira Ren, Snoke’s creation and plaything. _Mine_.”

A faint flicker of apprehension crosses her mind between one breath and the next— _he is wrong, my little Kira; you are no one’s but mine_ —but then Kira inhales again and all thought snuffs out like a candle before the gale of her primal need for this man, her maddening drive to offer her spread legs to him, to please him with her body.

“I do. I want this. I want you—please, Ben—”

“Good,” he moans, as though there could be any doubt of her hunger for him. Relief and desire. “That’s good. But once you’ve taken me inside you, there will be no turning back. Tell me you’re sure. Tell me that you’ll turn to me, Rey.”

Anything he asks of her, she’ll give gladly. Apprehension strives again to make itself heard through the scent clouding her mind, setting her flesh aflame, but it’s no more powerful than lingering threads of smoke from that snuffed candle before a bonfire: Ben Solo’s hands and his potent, radiant musk enveloping Kira with his desire.

And with hers.

“Say _yes_ , Rey,” he tells her when she struggles to speak, saliva pooling on her tongue, her throat constricted with her wanting, a brilliant blush suffusing her cheeks and the peaks of her breasts beneath her surcoat.

Her thighs quiver with pleasure at fulfilling his command. “ _Yes_.”

“Then I’m going to knot you, Rey. Do you know what that means?”

“Y-yes. It means…” she stumbles, arousal short-circuiting her ability to form words.

“Tell me what it means, sweet omega.” Ben’s mouth dips down her throat, lips opening to lap at her sweat. His tongue slides beneath her collar’s edge, and suddenly his fingers are loosening the constricting fabric, hidden clasps parting, exposing the tunic she wears, black but nearly transparent with her perspiration. While his tongue continues to taste the glands along her jaw, drinking her in, his thumb drifts over her left breast, tracing out tightening circles until he centers on her budding nipple. Kira shudders, arching into his touch, gasping in his scent, Ben Solo’s musky essence flooding her bloodstream and every neuron in her body.

“Tell me, Rey.”

She knows—she can hardly remember her own name, let alone the facts of her designation, but her body knows this. She knows what she wants. “My-my alpha will...will mate with me when I’m-I’m— _please!_ —when I’m in my heat. He’ll swell inside me while w-we come together, and he’ll spend himself... _a-a-ahhhhhh_...without withdrawing for...for...it can l-last—”

“Much longer than this elevator ride if you hadn’t been so, _so_ good and stopped our ascent, Rey.” The points of Ben’s teeth scrape against the hollow beneath her ear. She keens and thrashes, grinding the hot, aching apex of her sex along his shaft. He’s a little breathless when he continues, “Much, much longer. And once I knot you, Rey, I won’t be able to withdraw until I’m finished. Until we’re both finished.”

“I know—I know—”

“Even then, we’ll never be far apart—we can’t be. Not as bondmates, or lovers, or—”

“I k-know! Just please—please— _knot me!_ ” she nearly screams in frustrated desire when he continues to speak, to warn, to justify, thumb drifting to her other breast and beginning to circle again, tantalizingly slow. Why would he think she’d object to this, or to any words he might use? Think that she even _could_ object? He’s her alpha and she _wants_ him.

Now, in her heat.

Always.

The edge of a wicked grin ghosts against her arched, straining throat. “ _Knot me_ , what?”

“ _Alpha_ ,” she pants, inhaling his scent in great greedy gulps, nearly mad with his proximity and the horrible, constrictive clothes between them. “Alpha, my alpha— _Ben_.”

“Yes, Rey. That’s good, so good,” he murmurs, savoring the sweat on her clavicles. But then his head snaps up, eyes flashing, each pupil holding the light of a thousand exploding stars, blown black with readiness and need. Suddenly and brutally authoritative, he tells her: “Omega, get on your knees.”

Desperate to please him— _mine, mine, my alpha, mine_ —Kira scrambles down onto the elevator’s floor, stripping off her gloves to brace herself on her moist, skidding palms, breathing too hard, too fast.

“Good.” Ben’s hand strokes the crown of her head, tugging almost painfully, pleasurably through her braid-tangled hair, down her neck, along her spine, to her trousers’ waistband. With a single motion, his long, dexterous fingers hook and tear away the fabric to her knees, exposing the slick moisture painting her flushed, quivering thighs.

“You’re so ready for me, Rey,” he murmurs, voice husky with want. His fingers glide through the wetness, easing between the pliant folds of her core, almost as though he can’t keep himself from sampling the pleasure awaiting him when he finally— _finally_ —sheaths himself inside her. Kira gasps and bucks, urging him to plunder deeper. He obliges for one devastating, delicious moment, thumb sweeping over the nub of her arousal while he crooks two fingers against a tiny, rough patch of nerves in her passage. “Tell me that you’re ready for me to knot you.”

And he withdraws.

She’s a shivering mess, drenched in sweat and desire, and this torture is like none she’s ever known. She _needs needs needs_ —“I-I’m ready. Please, please I _need_ —”

“I know.” Fabric chafes behind her as Ben parts the fastenings on his trousers, casting back the folds of his Jedi cowl. Fingers moist with the wetness of Kira’s passage, his hands come to rest on her hips as he kneels behind her. “I need this, too. Since that first moment when you roused me out of unconsciousness in your restraints on Starkiller Base—I couldn’t breathe for your scent. You weren’t even in your heat, then, Rey. But I already knew...captive and captor, but you’d give me everything. One day.” He strokes the heaving length of her ribs gently, so gently, tracing each curve, and she flails against him, straining into his touch, desperate—“ _Now_.”

The taut head of Ben’s cock breaches her core’s fluttering passage. His fingers tighten over her hips, bracing himself and Kira as he begins to thrust into her with shallow strokes. Her channel parts around him, belly tightening even while her body weeps in gratitude for her alpha’s touch, for his attention. She moans, a wet, covetous sound in her throat, grinding back, urging him deeper.

“Don’t—I want to be gentle with you, Rey—I don’t want to hurt you—” Ben’s hips snap when she rolls hers, desperate for friction against his gentleness, the patient ingress into her body not nearly enough, desperate for more of him. His hands clench hard enough to make bruises blossom on her thighs, and his voice cracks. “R-Rey—”

She promises, whining, pleading, “You— _ahhhhhhh_ —you won’t. Ben—”

“I wanted this to be so different—our first mating— _Rey_ —I wanted—not rutting you on the floor, like an animal—”

But Kira doesn’t know softness. She doesn’t know how to be gentle. She doesn’t want him to treat her like she’s fragile—rocking his hips into hers, stroking her ribs and her snarled hair, murmuring her name—not when she knows what he can do to her instead. What she’s seen from him in battle. What his imperative urges him to do, and what his false Jedi code forbids him from doing.

 _What she wants him to do_.

She can show him the other way. The way he wants her, and the way she wants him. Brutally, with teeth and tongues and shattering moans of pleasure or pain, balancing on the blade’s edge between them.

His next thrust sheaths no more than half his cock inside her, and Kira’s finished with patience. She takes what she wants. Whatever she wants.

And she wants her alpha.

Clenching around him, holding him steady within her core, Kira shoves down through the muscle in her shoulders, to her wrists and palms sliding against the elevator’s metallic floor. Greedy determination gives her just enough traction to bear down with her belly, rearing up so that she’s on her knees only, Ben’s hands clutching her hips. She balances against him, steadying them both in this new, unfamiliar position, widening her knees. And then she rolls her hips again, down the length of his cock until she’s stretched full to accommodate him, drawing him deep within her with her weight sinking down along his shaft.

She’ll never let him go. _My alpha. Mine_.

“Rey…” he groans, cock pulsing against the delicate roughness within the front wall of her passage. She shivers and clenches again, shifting fractionally forward— _there, there_ —muscles spasming in tides of pleasure—

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers against her neck, teeth grazing her gland. Bad words, a reprimand, but his tone is honey and thunder—he’ll punish her for this transgression, and she wants him to. So, so badly. She _craves_ it. His scent drowns her when he rumbles through teeth closing over her skin, “Because...I was trying...so hard…to be...kind to you...when I know you’re afraid...”

But Kira isn’t afraid. Not of him. She says, “Knot me, Ben.”

A shocked stillness at her brazen presumption. Silence. Then—

“Did you just command your alpha, Rey?” His words are a sudden feral growl. And he thrusts up into her—hard, fast. _Unkind_. _So dominant_.

Her belly trembles with craven desire. _Yes_. “Will you punish me?” Panting, Kira reaches back to grip his hips, fastening herself to him while he ruts into her again and again, slick with sweat and heat.

 _Please, please work me through it—whatever you want—anything—anything so I can be good for you again_ —

“I could. _Oh_ , I could, Rey.” With her hands braced back on his hips, Ben’s are free to spread low on her stomach, fingers swirling through the dark, moist curls between her legs where his cock pounds out a ragged tempo. His thumb brushes against the sparking nerves of her rose, then flicks away; Kira’s scream echoes through her chest and into her throat. Desperately, she clamps her lips over it, choking on the sound, whimpering.

“But I’m not going to punish you.” His thumb returns, insistent and steady. She grinds himself onto him, panting in relief, gasping him in, their breath mingling while his thrusts deepen until he’s bottoming out against her. “You’ve already punished yourself enough, haven’t you?” She can’t refuse him this direct question and Kira cries out, wordless—but not a denial. “I know, I know,” he grunts, a groan shuddering into his lungs as his pleasure builds with hers, shaft thickening so that his thrusts come with greater effort, laboring to engulf his full, throbbing length. “You don’t need me for that, Rey. You need me to mate you and knot you. You need me to tell you that you’re _good._ ”

She...she isn’t, is she? Kira wails as Ben braces an arm across her stomach and bucks his hips, knot rising as he sheaths himself completely within her, too deep and thick to withdraw. She isn’t good, she isn’t...but if he tells her that she is— _my alpha_ —then maybe…

The first gush of his seed paints her core and the backs of her eyelids with sunbursts of color, blinding and beautiful, an explosion of pure sensation washing through her—Ben takes her nub between his fingers, exerting a hint of pressure, drawing her core and her belly tight, so tight she’s unraveling, coming undone—his teeth sink against her neck—her hips snap forward into his fingers as he rubs them together, grazing her rose with battle-rough pads—a vibration echoes and builds like the rising of nebula tides and birthing suns through her—and then he _breathes_.

Kira shatters.

Stunning, soaring, dying— _shattering._

Everything, all at once—

And again barely a moment later—she screams, over-sensitive and already splintered into a million brilliant shards that sing and bleed—as a second burst of Ben’s seed erupts inside her, drawn from him with a hoarse shout through his bared teeth into her neck while her core contracts and pulses around his knot. Tears stream over her cheeks while her body rocks and shudders, clenching down on Ben’s cock, urging another gushing groan from him, his spend hot and glowing within her passage, against the entrance to her womb.

His every stroke sends joy spiraling through her, Kira’s body glorying in fulfilling her imperative— _I have pleased my alpha. I am his, and he is mine. For him, I am good. I will never take another mate_. And then, fiercely, furiously while another peak crashes through her from his fingers and his knot rubbing against her roughened, thrumming nerves—

 _Neither will he_.

Ben moans into her neck, steeping himself in the scent of their mating with his nose pressed to Kira’s glands. She arches back and exposes herself for his teeth, for the bloody bond-mark he leaves over her pulse. It hurts, and brings another coursing, devastating climax when Ben laves his tongue over the wound.

“Good, so good, Rey,” he whispers. She sags, boneless against him in her repletion.

Dragging his discarded cowl beside them, Ben eases their conjoined bodies down onto the damp, rut-scented fabric, careful not to tug upon their knotted groins. He strokes down Kira’s thigh and entices her to raise her knee back over his leg, widening her hips, opening her sex to his fingers again. His knot continues to throb, dousing her passage with his spend while his fingers coax another peak from her, and other. Gentler now, no longer the crashing destruction of her first climaxes—but softer, more tender, calling fluttering, soughing sighs rather than rash screams from her lips.

“Yes, good,” she answers him, weightless and floating on the currents of her pleasure and his. Mingling, slipping naturally into each other’s minds as their bodies have come together.

 _At last_.

“You’re not afraid,” he murmurs, lips on his mark. “Finally, you’re not afraid…”

“No.”

“When we face your master?”

_I will not be swayed._

“We face him together.”

“And then?” Ben’s knot softens within her, but he doesn’t withdraw. Instead, his hands drift across her belly, her breasts, drawing her closer into his chest, her head against his shoulder, his fingers twining in her hair, soothing the braided snarls from it. And his lips are gentle over hers.

 _Mine_ , they think together.

It’s good.

For this moment, Rey is good, too...

But then something shifts in the elevator shaft around them, a hitch from the hydraulic pumps, cables re-engaging. A single red beacon blinks to life on the crippled control panel. The durasteel doors tremble, a little shudder in the mechanisms as the system is rewired by frantic hands and wrenches somewhere within the _Supremacy—Critical_ _system failure in the fifth elevator shaft. Re-route all functions and re-engage immediately_. The power comes online with a flash of electricity and a deep, reverberating hum. A quiver in the floor, and the elevator grinds into motion, rising again.

“And then,” she echoes him. An answer. Rey touches Ben’s face, strokes the ugly, perfect scar she’s given him, her enemy, her Jedi, her mate.

 _Yes, mine_.

She is good, and they are enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Well...that happened. ;)
> 
> Craving more smut? [What We Do in the Firelight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14369163) is a canon-compliant take on what would've happened (yes, it would've! fight me) if Luke hadn't interrupted that erotic hand-touch on Ahch-To.
> 
> Or maybe actual plot is more your style? [Sun, Sand, and Stone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14159823/chapters/32636709) has a healthy dose of plot framing the eventual smut.
> 
> If you enjoyed Kill Me Softly, tell me about it in the comments/with kudos/shares with friends, and on [Tumblr](https://black-eyed-suzannah-q.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Or just tell me things. I like things.


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